


Home Is Wherever You May Roam

by Her_HC7



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animals, Bandits & Outlaws, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nature, Photographs, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-24 04:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_HC7/pseuds/Her_HC7
Summary: “Ah, home, let me go homeHome is wherever I’m with youAh, home, let me go homeHome is where I’m alone with youAh, home, yes I am home”





	1. Rhodes’s Battlefield

 

* * *

 

_“Ah, home, let me go home_

_Home is wherever I’m with you_

_Ah, home, let me go home_

_Home is where I’m alone with you_

_Ah, home, yes I am home”_

 

_**Home** _

 

Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeroes

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The soft clopping of Arthur’s dun Mustang’s hooves soothes Arthur for the time being. The horse snorts and he bends across the saddle, patting its neck and whispering words of encouragement. The Mustangs fur was Corse but soft and he could hear his equipment rattle with every step the Mustang took. His bones jolting each stride.

He straightens back up to focus on the dirt path in front of him. Bright with the day’s light were he could see every living detail. It gets embedded into his mind, and everything in between.

The red dirt that covers the road and area is dry, making him sneeze. It gets into his eyes, throat, clothes and nose. He wishes it to rain or even sprinkle some but the weather is unpredictable and it will never grant his wish. 

He urges his horse into a canter alongst the path. Heading for the town of Rhodes, for the gunsmith.

He is not welcomed there. Never was, never will be. The town knew who he was and who was on his side. That he was an outlaw, a savage, a killer, but they did nothing in return for his sinful acts. They completely ignored him every time he came trotting into their village.

He was only put up with because of their sheriff who was in truth, drunk off the walls. Yet the citizens respects for him and his gang rose even higher once they stole the liquor from the rich families and handed it out for free. They were so lively and gracious and Arthur had such a good time pouring out drinks and laughing with Hosea took that night. But it had to go wrong, everything always went south.

The people’s respect for him rose even higher after the Braithwaite incident, only a few days prior. Yet the Greys and Braithwaite themselves weren’t quite so happy. To that true.

Arthur chuckled at this to himself. Oh so lively were the folk at times. He didn’t want to see any of that family when he rides into the town. It might as well turn out to be a big shoot out. The Braithwaite family was done for. The Grays, not so much.

He grumbled at this. Mood changing. His mood had been very sourly lately. With all that shit that had been going down with the gang. Sean dying and little dear Jack being Kidnapped. That... that wasn’t right and it drove the whole gang to the ends of their minds and drove John and Abigail even further. Oh dear, he wished they could get him back now. But it was going to take more and more worrying to get there. This stress was not leveling out and it was exhausting him. Stress always did that but alas, he tried keeping his mood up and hoped this would keep his mind off of troubling circumstances.

In a few seconds he could see the village ahead. A horse and his rider passed by, taking no notice. Coming up to the village, it showed that few people lined the road. On the dirt ground, or porches. Walking and smoking to their delight. Others inside laughing or crying.

Rhodes was a small village but a little bigger than Valentine. Though much more beautiful and rustic. Slowing his horse to a trot he made his way to the gunsmith and dismounted. Feet landing into the dusty road he made his way to the front.

He was going to trade in one of his old guns that he never had used. One that he robbed off of someone and with that gun he would buy another prime weapon with a couple more bucks on hand.

Entering the store was a different reality. The clerk, a new man, only for a couple of days now had no clue who he was or what his dealings were which was even better.

The man politely greeted him.

“Hello Sir, What can I do for you today?”

“Trading in a Revolver.. Looking to to get a Lancaster” He grumbled heading over to the counter and laying out the Revolver. The clerk picked it up, flipping around in his hand. He kept a straight face.

“This is a good one! Why selling such a fine piece?” He inclined.

“Already have some” He didn’t feel like going on and laid out some money directly. Enough besides the Revolver to buy the Lancaster.

The clerk got the hint and didn’t say no more. Putting the Revolver to the side he went to the back and pulled out a Lancaster and showing it to Arthur who in return nodded his approval. The man graciously took the money as he traded over the weapon. Arthur took it happily and headed out of the store without much more of words.

Turning it around in his hands he viewed it with great respect and smoothly slid it into a pocket that his saddle had. His horse rubbed his head up against him and he dug into his satchel. Pulling out a treat he offered it to the Mustang who happily ate it. Grabbing the horn he swung himself up and with the reins and feet Arthur directed his horse to the right and began a walk.

Heading back to Clemens Point we’re the camp was, he had to talk with Hosea.

The people in the town gave him no glance as he passed in a trot, onto the beaten trail and back into the wild grass.

That Lancaster was much needed as he went forward with daily life and all the robberies they did. It would come in handy soon enough. Arthur would pride himself on it.

He is drifting off in his mind, letting his horse partly lead the way when he is snapped back into reality.

He swears he hears a voice call out to him but he ain’t sure. Turning in his saddle he sees a little ways away to his left that there was another traveler. Not any traveler but one of Albert Mason.

His horse seems to sense this and stops, waiting for directions and Arthur directs him to Mason. Trotting over he bows his head with his hat. In a greeting way

“How’s it goin Mr. Mason? I thought for sure yer left after the eagles” He chuckles and watched as Mason’s face which was alignt to see him go through a mix of emotions till it landed on a frown then to a laugh.

“Oh Mr. Morgan! I wouldn’t have just left this beautiful land because I nearly died! I still have much more to take in and to thanks to you” His voice was full of wamth as they both stopped their horses in the middle of the trail. Near the Grey’s land and the Scarlet Meadows.

“Ah, no need.” He waves his hand. “Saving you from yer death is the least I can do” Grinning Arthur alined his horse next to Mason’s. The man in return stuttered for a second.

“M—-Mr. Morgan! Please don’t act like that! What you have done is the most gracious and noblest deed!” The man seemed to get a bit flustered. To him it seemed like a serious matter and Arthur understood in a way. He watched as Mason waves his hands about. In this torrent his eyes were directed to the Ebony’s saddlebags. Full of equipment.

Resting his hands on the horn of his saddle and feeling the horse rest one of its legs he spoke.

“Whats ya doin all way down er?” Mason stopped in his fluster and looked back at him. Light brown eyes meeting sea blue.

“Oh! I was going over to this old battlefield I’ve heard about around here. Some folk told me white tailed deer like to roam there” He explained and Arthur could tell he was about to go on to a rant. He interrupted before he could.

“I’ll go with ya” He stated. In instant Mason straightened in his saddle.

“That... that’ll be delight full, Mr. Morgan! Thank you.....” Mason smiled joyfully. “Sometimes it gets quite boring sitting in the sun or rain all day waiting for an appearance of any animal” He sighed and for a second Arthur felt sorry for him.

“My pleasure Mr. Mason.” With that he urged his horse into a walk and Mason followed. Taking the lead he directed them to the battlefield and looked back to see Mason who was staring at him.

Obviously thinking about something to say. His hat balanced on his head yet it stayed put against the light wind and fog that hung over the ground. Nearly corrupting their view. His black hair was a bit wild and his clothes dusty. Mason’s green vest a bit wrinkled. The other’s skittish eyes averted Arthur’s own yet in a few seconds both their eyes met and Arthur huffed gaining back the attention of the other.

“You’d think this fog gunna mess with ur photo?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. I think it will work out beautifully and make the photograph marvelous” Relpied Mason in slight uplifting tone”

They were rounding a corner and were now coming up to the old civil war battlefield. Easing the horse into a stop, Arthur slid from the saddle. Patting his horse’s neck he went over to Mason and watched as the man clumsily slid from the saddle to the dirt. Holding onto his hat with one hand and nearly falling back. Arthur moved forward to help him and with a hand on Mason’s shoulder he steadied him.

Mason laughed and patted Arthur’s hand.

“You sir saved me from a dreadful fall” Arthur grinned and only laughed at this

At least he had some joke in him. Standing by Mason as he unpacked his tools, Arthur stuck out his hand.

“Need any help?”

“Ah yes! That will be delightful. Here you can carry the stand” Mason spoke and shoved the stand into Arthur’s hands. As Mason got his other things out Arthur Inspected the stand curiously. He had used cameras before but never one like this and it was nearly surreal to be holding one of Mason’s equipments. It must of been expensive.

The metal rods felt cold in his hands.

“How... how the hell did carry this on ur horse?” He looked up to meet Mason’s eyes. He guaffed.

“Simple. I have a clip that secures it into place. And it folds!” The man in turn gathering up his belongings and with that they began walking. Their horses fallowing them laszily. Arthur stayed a few steps behind Mason, letting him go where ever he pleased.

They were standing in the middle of the meadow’s grass with trees that were neither growing with lush leaves or bare. They were dead and some split. Scattered buildings were in the areas but they were all run down. Cannons littered the grass and Arthur squinted his eyes as he tried to see farther in the fog but to no avail.

He was snapped back to attention as Mason was pulling the tripod from his hands. Releasing it to Mason the man smiled greatly at him and turned. Oddly stumbling back a few feet in front of him and making sure the tripod was secure on the grass. Then he mounted the actual camera upon it and swiped at his forheadand at once Arthur grumbled. It was hot to the point of no comfort.

Mason swiveled on his feet, clapping his hands together.

“Now we wait Mr. Morgan!”” Arthur watched the man as he was about to turn around to his camera when his face frowned and his arm raised up. He let it fall back down and looked at Arthur. Their eyes met and Arthur knew something was biting at the man.

“You are staying, right?” He asked, Mason’s eyes searching his. He might of been still confused. He needed to reassure him once again and he blindly went forward and agreeded.

He hummed in response and went to sit down in the soft flowered grass next to the camera. Pulling his hat over his head, blocking the sun out.

“As long as it takes Mr. Mason” As Mr. Mason went back to his camera, eagerly awaiting the arival of a certain animal in the midst of all the flowers and fog without a sound, Arthur grew tired. Tired from the warm sun and soft plush grass. Yet he did not let himself fall asleep.

Instead he moved a little more back, away from Mason and dug into his satchel. Taking out his journal and one of his pencils he opened onto a new page and began writing and drawing. This went on for some time, the sweeping mad dipping of his pencil. When he was done he had a couple of drawings, some marvrlous in his way and others not. He wrote little about what he did, though not much.

Shutting the journal he groaned. From the position he sat in for that amount of time was taking a toll on him. Neck and back in pain, he slowly made his way back to Mason. Covering the few feet between them instantly. The man in turn was still in the same position as when he first encountered him and Arthur wondered if he ever got bored doing this on hours for an end.

“Any luck” He drawled and Mason shot up. Clearly startled. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No. I suppose not, but something has to appear soon” The man’s awkward self went back to the camera and Arthur watched him with curiosity and interest.

The first time he met him was by accident, pure dumb luck. Riding by with his horse and he looked to his left. Oh how much of a fool Mason was yet he envied him in ways he couldn’t  understand.

Maybe it was because the man was so carefree at times. Not worrying about what the nature of things would do with him. He didn’t have to worry about Pinkertons and boutymen, horrific bloody stagecoach robberies and feuds with families. Or even taking care of a large family by himself.

Or maybe it was because he loved nature, that he was an artist in a way and he so desperately wanted to capture it no matter the cost.

When Arthur first walked up to him he nearly scared the man half to death and he felt deeply sorry about it. Yet he had introduced himself with his actual name. Not some dumbass sounding name that was an alias but his true real name and maybe that was because the slim awkward clumsy man with the instinct to go out into the heart of the dangerous wilderness with not some much of a raindrop of courage to face the beats when they ran at him alightened Arthur. This man radiated unharmful vibes around him, he wanted the best for everyone and Arthur appreciated it.

Introducing himself with his real name was a big pleasure and he could finally not worry for once in his life. Worry about what someone might do if they heard his name. Oh the terror that would cause. Yet Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed and he questioned this.

Did Mason really know who he was? What he had done? How dangerous he really was and who he worked with? Did he really not care? Did he even know that being within his very boundaries was treason nonetheless than talking to him?

Arthur could only shake his head. But he knew that day forward when the man’s bag had gotten stolen from the coyote and he ran after the animal and returned it,that it was a different feeling from other folk who he had done a favor for. He felt no need to ask for money for that and he warmed at the thought of what Mason had called him. ‘A gentleman’ but no, he would never be one’.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Dirt getting into them. He blinked it away.

“Everything alright Mr. Morgan?”

He looked up from the grass to Mason’s brown eyes.

“Yeah. Just thinkin” he was laying on his back, hat on his head lopsided. The grass tickled his nose as he still stared up at Mason. He decided to get up. Pushing himself off the grass he grunted as he nearly stumbled back from the rush of blood to his brain and straightened his hat. He dusted himself off.

Standing beside Mason he squinted and shifted to rest his numb leg. He saw nothing. Turning to Mason he raised an eyebrow.

“Yer sure deer are here?” Mason continues to stare into his camera lenses.

“I’m quite sure” Mason replied and Arthur chuckled.

“We’ve been here for some time. I ain’t seen one flick of a tail or a scent trial” He scratched at his head and Mason stood. Knocking his head agaist the camera. His hat fell off revealing flowing ebony hair that was swept back.

As Mason’s hat fell off to Arthur’s side he bent down. Picking it up and reaching out. Placing it back onto Mason’s head. Setting it gently on his head to try not to mess up his alluring hair, it still seemed slanted sideways as always. Arthur’s hand feel back to his side.

Arthur continued to watch Mason who in a second after that smiled awkwardly and shuffled. Hand going up to fiddle with his vest and for a second Arthur thought he saw Mason’s face redden or perhaps it was got temperature in the field. The man instantly began talking and fast.

“It’s the set of nature Mr. Morgan. The animals and everything takes their time. We humans have no patience and we need to learn to take our time for..., for we might spoil what we’re after” Mason indicated the camera by taking hold of it and revealing a photo he took once before.

“Such as this. In time, Mother Nature will reveal itself and we will be able to bask in its beauty” Mason smiled at this, eyes crinkling and Arthur knew this was his passion. Nothing would ever change Mason from what he did and the man was right in what he said. That humans are impateint and nature is beautiful if you only wait. He shouldn’t have the right to be judging Mason in his works. He knew what he was doing as much as Arthur knew how to wait for game and such.

Taking the photo from Mason’s outstretched hand he inspected it.

It was black and white of course but it was that of the heartlands, the praire side and he already loved it even before he saw the animals within the photo and his mouth turned up to a small smile.

In the photo among the flowing grass of fields galore stood three horses. A mother and her foal twins. The mother was a short sleek white Mustang. Her two foals, one laying down at her feet with a beautiful brown and white coat and the other standing under her neck. Had a white coat and multicolored mane and tail. His attention then was directed to the background which contrasted the horses with a bird but not any bird, but a bald eagle.

Swiping his fingers over the texture of the photo he looked back up to Mason’s eyes. They were warm and welcoming and made him immediately smile.

“This is beautifully Mr. Mason! The best I’ve ever seen and look, you’ve finally gotten your eagles” Arthur cracked a even bigger smile at this. Remembering the daring exclusion Mason went on to get a photo of Bald Eagles. It nearly cost him his life if Arthur hadn’t been there to save him.

Mason only scoffed at Arthur’s remark.

Arthur went to hand back the photo but was denied the chance as Mason pushed his hand away, shaking his head.

“No no. I already have many like this yet this one...” He looked back at the photo that rested in Arthur’s hand. “This one is special. You deserve it for what you have done. For savjng my foolish self all those times. I know i have you one befor but I don’t think that can do enough. I wish I could do more but there ain’t much I can” Mason’s emotions had gone from complete joy to sadness and Arthur who which was smiling frowned. He stepped forward.

Placing a comforting hand on Mason’s shoulder he patted the spot and leand a bit closer.

“You might be a fool but your a damn good artist” Arthur spoke and Mason looked back up to him.

Eyes wide opened with light as the day and flickering with the changing light. Mason opened his mouth to say a word perhaps when both of their attentions snapped to the scene before them, onto the old battlefield. To the noise that came from there, unlike anything still that could do.

A wild buck with two does were beginning to wander a fro in the meadow like place. Alongst with their looping smooth moments, were crows sitting upon their backs and on the buck’s antlers and Mason gasped next to him and quickly but quietly crept back to his camera. Shushing Arthur he focused on his task and Arthur obediently became silent.

The snap of the camera attracted the attention of the deer and crows and Arthur heard Mason muttered. A mutter of a positive gesture and he watched straight faced as the animals did nothing. He cocked his head to the side, now amazed as they didn’t bound away at the flash and sounds of the camera. They stared in their direction, instrestead and Mason took more photos but not many. The deer went back to grazing.

Odd that was.

Mr. Mason stood up, the most delighted grin of joy plastered on his face.

“Oh Mr. Morgan! Theses are going to be excellent, astounding, note worthy!” He exclaimed and the man he was became sidetracked as the deer caught his eye once more.

“Handsome creatures they are. A product of nature’s kindness” He swept back to his camera and began breaking the mechanics down and in no time was done packing. He handed Arthur the tripod stand once again and the cowboy took it with stride.

Walking side by side they reached Mason’s chestnut mare who was grazing near Arthur’s Mustang and Arthur watched silently as Mason packed away his luggage. Then taking the tripod from Arthur’s hands he clipped it to the saddle like he said and patted his horse’s neck. Combing his fingers through it.

“Hope those photos come out good.”

Arthur breathes and began back tracking. Steeping in the direction of his horse. He was down with what he needed to do with Mason.

“Oh, uh, Mr. Morgan!” Mason calmed our and Arthur turned. Curious.

”Yes?” Mason approached him till they were standing down feet apart.

”I don’t want to encroach but I don’t think it’s fitting to be referring to each other in formal. You saved me enough times as it is” Mason went on and Arthur looked at him with jumbled thoughts.

”Sure” He coughed and once again began walking.

“See you around Arthur!”

Flicking his wrist to Albert he did too.

Always, Albert”

The way the name slid off his tongue was like a prayer, a idol and Arthur loved it.

It fit perfectly

His horse snorted as they set off into the fog towards Clemens Point.

He would be seeing Albert again and again and again, he was sure of it.

Now for the time being, he had things to worry about yet he pulled out the new photograph the ebony man had given to him and stared into its depths in amazement.


	2. Rams

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur’s boots grazed over the grass and dirt. His body weaving back and forth between the trees that stood high above him. Leaves flittering as light reflected off of them onto Arthur. Birds chirped solemnly around him as he quieted his footsteps even more.

Lightly stepping, he stopped. Listening closely and observing the earth. His horse snorts behind him and he grumbles. Wishing that the Mustang would do the same as him and be quiet.

The poor creature didn’t know any better anyway.

Taking the bow into his hands, a quiver underneath, he stalked forward. Out onto the edge line of the trees that split from the hill of rocks. He was suspended between the Big Valley, North of the Black Forest. Between the mountains and meadows. This was the perfect place for ram.

Clopping of hooves, this attracts his attention. The distant noise of it graces his ears and he knows it is not his horse. He hears snorting. The ram is on the hill above him.

His body nearly flinched as a loud crack split the air. Jarring the birds who went screaming into the air. The dun Mustang whinnies in fright but does not run away. To loyal to Arthur to do so.

The rams, they were fighting again. Rising he quickly ran over around the hill and ducked behind a rock. Peeking around the rock grabbed him view of the upper rocky hill.

Five rams, all massive stood on the rocky hill. Two of them snorting and locked in a head dual. This was his only chance.

Placing the arrow against the string, his hand curved and steadied itself right before the quiver. Arthur pulled back. Then breathed. In and out, focusing his mind. His lock on the ram was on point. He would release on three.

1....

2...

“Arthur?!”

The voice radiates through him and he cannot turn at the voice. His fingers slip from the quiver and the bow moves to the right as the arrow is sent flying away. Floppily to the side, Arthur does not make time to watch where it goes as he whips around. Bow already back up in a firing stance. Hand already going back to another arrow.

At the sight before him, he drops both arms. A hand on his hip. Albert Mason is standing in front of him. A shocked expression to him. Arthur was just a little bit annoyed.

“Albert? Whatcha doing sneaking up on a man like me? I coulda killed ya!” He huffed and swings the bow over his head.

“Oh I’m... I’m terrible sorry. I didn’t know...” The photographers hand flies up to his hat, holding it as his other is out in front of him. In a gesture of doing no harm. Arthur only mildly stares at it. The man looks very concerned that he scared him.

Arthur turns back around to look for the mighty rams. Of course, they were now long gone. He sighs, he would be able to get them later.

“Just...” Arthur pauses. “Just don’t sneak up on me like that. Wait till I’m done” Walking back over to his horse he returns his weapons back to their places.

“I’ll be sure to do that Arthur” Mason chirps as he comes up to Arthur’s side. Hand going up to pat the Mustang’s neck.

“You alright?” Albert inquires and Arthur knows darn well that the ebony man knows he is. He just needed reassurance.

“Yeah . Yeah. Great” Albert’s shoulders clearly rest at this. Satisfied that he didn’t cause anything bad to happen.

“Are you going now?” The ebony man asks and Arthur’s hand slides away form the horn. Kicking at the dirt. He never had any thought of going anywhere.

“No. I’ll stay with you for now” he says with a ruged voice and turning to face Albert.

He looks as he always does. Light pants, light undershirt and a green vest. But each piece of clothing is still different. His hat is the same as always, as it tips off the side of his face and Albert smilies at him. A grin at the remark Arthur gave and Arthur completely forgot anything else. Though not everything exactly.

Why he decided to agree with staying with him he didn’t really know. He did have other places to go but that could always wait, those things weren’t important. For Albert, anything could wait.

Arthur was sure of it and strongly that he felt, he wanted to make sure Albert didn’t get mauled out here. After all, Grizzlies roamed these parts. It was very dangerous for a man who didn’t have a weapon to defend himself.

“What are you doing here exactly?” Albert asks. Looking at the bow on the saddle with some resentment.

“Hunting” Arthur mumbles.

“Oh” Mason breaths and looks away and Arthur knows he’s not pleased with this. With all the wildlife the photographer captures, Arthur can understand how the ebony guy would dislike hunting.

Next time, he would try not to hunt around Albert. Yet that opportunity was lost on both occasions. Here now which was mostly by luck that Albert found him and the wolf incident that happened some time ago. This memory struck Arthur. He wished that Albert hadn’t seen that. Hadn’t witness the murder of such beautiful creatures. He nearly fainted that day, from both the murders of the creatures and looming threat of what the wolves could of done.

Arthur couldn’t help that he was a gunslinger, a hunter, yet that showed when he took out those wolves to save Albert’s life. He couldn’t undo the damage. Knocking this aside and trying now not to dwell on it as curiosity drew his mind away. What was Albert doing anyway in these parts?

“What animals are you trying to get?” Arthur inclined his head to Albert who jumped up. Excitement rushing through him.

“Rams!” Twirling around and calling for his horse who approached him slowly.

“Do you know where they are most likely to be?” Mason asks.

“You just scared a bunch away.” He flicks his head in the direction of where they were originally.

“Oh” Albert stands theres for a second. Looking guilty for a second before continuing. “There bound to be more” Albert states, waving his hand around and Arthur rolls his eyes.

“C’mon. Know where they might be”

Taking the reigns of his horse he lead the way. Albert did the same and soon they were walking side by side. Each step they took their shoulders touched. Every single time, it made them both nearly lose their balancing as one knocked to roughly into each other.

“Were you reckon they gone off to?” Albert switched his attention from the route they were taken to Arthur who was staring dead set ahead.

“Up a little ways. At the river“ He suggested. Knowing alright they would be there.

They continued walking, through the trees and grass. Arthur looking over to Albert, curiosity once again striking him. What ever does he do when he’s not taking beautiful photographs? Off in some industrial city that’s filled with morons? Who knows.

Arthur knows whatever he does beides marching around the wilderness was anything else then perhaps boring and He’s surely inclined to hear. The man was full of surprises anyhow.

Clearing his throat he asked.

“Your life... is there anything else than photography that you do?” Albert looks up at him then turns back to we’re they are going.

“There is one thing perhaps. It ain’t much. Besides roaming these parts I do have a office place in Saint Denis were I have galleries and photo takings. It’s nothing exciting” Arthur huffed at this. It was interesting enough.

A photo gallery? He would love to visit it one time. Even if it meant going through dreaded Saint Denis. He had never been to one in his life it would surly be a pleasure to see some of Albert’s works displayed. A lopsided grin struck his face.

“A photo gallery? Never seen one in my life” He spoke, inclining his head to Albert. The man in turn replied very quickly at this.

“You should come visit one day.” Arthur was delighted as he said this. What he would give to see Albert’s photos.

“Sure. I would like to see them” Albert seems to practically jump in exciment at this.

“The gallery will be open any time for you” Arthur hummed in agreement.

“Sounds good. I’ll visit sometime” He smirked and knocked lightly into Albert with his shoulder. Both of them slowed as they crossed some rough brush.

As they stood for a second, nearly entangled in the brush a loud snap resided through the area and in a instant Arthur’s hand was up with his revolver.

His eyes scanning the surrounding area within seconds but stopped as he heard the intake of breath besides him. Lowering his revolver as he saw no sign of danger. Just the unfortunate crack of a animal or branch falling from a tree. Arthur’s sea blue eyes caught Albert’s chocolate ones.

His eyes were locked with the revolver and then fluttered back to Arthur’s.

“Oh dear! I hope you don’t have to fire that dreadful thing off!” Albert squeaked. With realizing what was happening, Arthur tucked the gun away, out of sight.

“Don’t like the sight of em?” He stood close to Albert, noticing as he tightened his grip on the horse’s reigns.

“Never liked them. Never will. The sound of them gives me terrible frights. I’ve nearly passed out many of times witnessing them” Mason breathed.

Arthur only shook his head at this. Not in ridiculousness, but of a odd feeling. Whatever happened to Albert that made him feel that way he could only feel bad about.

They went silent after this and continued walking through the remainder of trees that blocked their way to the meadow. In no time they reached the edge of it. Arthur stopped as they got there and Mason did the same.

Scanning the meadow filled with waving purple flowers in a valley among mountains. Arthur’s eyes located the rams who were as he fortold, at the river. Heads bent and drinking.

“Perfect! Arthur! This is going to be a lovely picture. Here!” The once usual skittish man became brazen in a way that no one else would have and rushed to get his camera. Unsnapping it from the saddle he pushed it into Arthur’s hands and grabbing the rest. Made his way out into the open. Arthur’s jaw nearly dropped. This was a bad idea.

“Albert!” But the man was to engrossed, eyes a shine.

“Goddamnit. Gonna get himself killed” Arthur mumbled to himself and quickly hurried to the man’s side. His camera clutched closely to his chest in a protective manor. He side stepped Albert and stopped in front of him. Forcing Mason to stop. He went instantly confused.

“Your going to get yourself killed doing that Albert! Walking straight at them! They’ll run at you” Pressing a hand to his forehead he tried to put sense into Albert. Surely he would of know that out of all things with his dealings with animals.

They were now farther into the meadow. Grass knee high and flowers twisting around their legs. The sweet scent of them overwhelming. Arthur watched as Albert was about to open his mouth. He looked around Arthur and his eyes went wide.

Arthur spun immediately around and in near shock realized that they had gone to far. The rams had seen them and one of them was already charging.

Oh for the love of animals.

With one hand wrapped around the precious camera he reached for his revolver and held it up. In a second Albert was at his side. Clutching at him. Surprising him.

“Don’t shoot the poor animal!” He pleaded. Arthur could hear his voice trembling. Fear rising in his heart at what could happen to Albert if he didn’t frighten off the ram or possibly Injured it jarred the outlaw.

Snapping his finger agaist the trigger the gun fired off with a loud crack. He had pointed the gun upwards to the sky. The ram which was only a few yards away from them skidded to a stop and scrambled. Falling back and bolting away.

On the other hand....

The gunshot noise caused distress in Albert even more so than what he was scared about before. His arm was wrapped around Arthur’s waist, his side up against Arthur’s own. He was trembling. Ridiculously so.

Putting his revolver back into its sheath and ignoring the rams who were running to the other side of the meadow. Arthur stuck out his arm, wrapping it around the smaller man’s side. Bringing him in even closer. His hand settled on the middle of his back, on his green silky vest. He needed to reassure him.

Mason’s hat had fallen off, hair a bit of a mess now and his breathing was excelled. His hand that was around Arthur’s side which was shaking and Arthur sighed.

The feeling of guilt creeping this way into him. He should of warned him before he went off into the meadow. This was a terrible situation which was only turning worst by the second. Arthur’s heart was in his throat from worry.

Mason hadn’t yet said a word yet and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was already calming down. He didn’t think so. So he turned his head. Tucking the other’s head under his chin, he let his body relax and felt as Albert’s soon did the same. Patting his back, Arthur breathed Albert’s scent deeply. He smelled like the wilderness. Like of wood and flowers in way. He watched the blue sky as he felt Albert’s heavy breathing agaist his neck subside.

All of the man’s body weight was leaned up agaist the frame of Arthur’s and he could barely stand. His slight decaying weakening body couldn’t do this all the time. Instead he held tighter to Mason and began bending his knees. Lowering them silently and steadily to the ground till they were both sitting. Albert nearly in Arthur’s lap, his head still in his neck.

The grass nearly hid them among the view off the flowers. The purple flowers, lavender flowers gave off a relaxing smell. The flower that was a medicine for a person that was hyperventilating.

Taking his chin off of Albert’s head he looked down at the man who was now looking up to him.

“Albert? You alright?”

Suddenly struck with the realization of what Albert said before. That Mason didn’t like guns at all and the very noise of them being fired scared him half to death. He couldn’t imagine what had gone through the man’s mind as the noise of his revolver fired right next to his ear. It could of possibly made him faint, but this was worse. Much worse. He was practically paralyzed.

Placing the camera down and stretching out to retrieve Albert hat, he placed it next to them then looking back to Albert who was now rubbing at his eyes.

Arthur looked at the smaller man who was practically in his lap. Making himself more smaller than normal. His head placed again his shoulder. Arthur’s breath nearly caught as he moved his hand to settle between Morgan’s shoulder and neck.

He was calmed down, no more trembling came from the photographers body. Arthur let his shoudlers slump and waited for a reply. After some few antagonizing seconds, Albert looked back up and met his eyes. They were weary, but mild.

“I’m sorry about the revolver.... didn’t mean to scare you.... it was either that or being trampled to death” Arthur forced out, to uptight that Albert hadn’t spoke yet.

Recollecting his hand from Arthur’s side, Albert sighed.

“I know... that was just unfortunate timing...” He crossed his legs, looking st the mountains around them.

“Good then?” Arthur raised a brow and gave a small smile as Albert nodded. Rising to his feet he stuck out a hand and Albert took it. Lifting him to his feet he patted the man’s back.

Albert walked over to his hat and picked it up. Placing upon his head as he ceased from squinting at the sun.

“The gunshot might of deafened me” He nearly complained, rubbing his hand around his ear.

“Yeah. It can get loud” emmitted Arthur who also went over to the discarded camera and gently picked it up.

Albert rushed over to him at the sight of the camera. Taking into his hands he inspected it.

“Oh dear, the camera!” He turned it over and after looking at every spot grinned.

“Thank to the high heveans! The camera isn’t broken.” For what the poor soul just expirenced he was back up on his feet smiling and Arthur couldn’t help but grin back at this. He was courageous in a way without even knowing it. In a very odd way. His emotions might be a spratic but it fit the photographer:

Yet Mason’s eyes went downcasted. Thinking. He looked over to the direction of the river and Arthur stood besides him. Knowing what he was exactly thinking.

“I rather not get into another situation like that again. I did miss the photo” He stared for a few seconds longer into the distance then back at the camera. Arthur stepped forward. He wanted to help.

“I can get you the photo” He asked and Albert eyes went alight.

“How? I don’t want to go to close to the rams again” He chuckled nervously. Putting his two fingers to his lips, Arthur whistled and his horse came cantering to him. Snorting. Eyes wide.

“Hey there” Giving the dun a oatcake, He delved into the saddle bags and removed his very own camera. Turning he showed it to Albert.

“Will this be alright?”

Just the brazen idea of showing someone his very own camera, never mind his journal which would never see the eyes of someone else was a choice that took some thought. It took a flash of thought that he would show him his camera. It was something special to Arthur, though he knew Albert would never laugh or taunt him at the fact that he had one.

Arthur was taken aback as Albert gasped and laid down his other camera softly to take his very own camera from his hands. It was very tiny compared to the other yet Albert cradled it like it was his own. Arthur Just stood there dumbstruck.

“You never told me you had a camera, Arthur!” Albert looked up with a huge grin on him face and Arthur laughed awkwardly. Hand going up to scratch at his neck.

“Yeah.... had that for some time... never really used it” He spoke and Albert handed it back carefully all the while staying..

“It will be alright. I can print the photo you get to a better size” He talked, intrigued.

“The rams will be some ways ahead now. I’ll go track them down.” he told Albert and with that swung himself up into the saddle with great ease.

“Yes. That’ll be great!” Albert agreed.

“Just stay put.” Arthur spoke and the photographer nodded. Clutching his camera and spurring his horse on, he set off to the other mountain. In no time crossing to the trees and into their shade. Slowing the Mustang to a trot he began weaving his way through. Ears perked up and eyes adjusting to the light.

He would try to make this photo the best one he ever made. Perfect to the random, slightly jarred photos he had taken before. Silently hoping that Albert would love the photo. He would.

He rounded a bush of thorns. Coming to the side of it, he could see two of the rams milling about. He was half hidden by the brush. If he moved anymore the rams would spot him. This was most likely the last chance to score a photo.

Lifting his small camera up, he steadied it with his hands. He would of never been able to lift Albert’s camera like this.

Wishing his horse to freeze for a second and to his wishes, that the horse seemed to just do that.

Making sure the rams were in range, the light at the right angle he took the photo. The camera snapped and made no flash. The rams never noticed. Turning his horse around and careful catching the photo by the end of its paper they began heading back.

It would take some minutes for the photo to form, and it would be formed when they got back. He didn’t want to risk getting another photo of the rams off of fear of something happening. That was just dumb luck that they didn’t react and Arthur hoped the photo would come out good. If it didn’t, he wouldn’t know what he would do.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the meadow. Hand still holding the photo lightly, it’s picture now view able. He could see Albert standing by his horse near the spot they had been before.

Approaching, Arthur slid off the saddle and walking towards Mason who turned to meet him. His face beamed instantly and his eyes quickly catched what was in his hand. Arthur offered it to him without any words and Albert took it, delighted.

He spent serval seconds staring into the black and white scene. Looking back up, his face still plastered into a grin.

“It is wonderful Arthur! Thank you” Arthur chuckled, a bit flustered at the remark. His hand going to scratch his neck. His neck felt warm and he wondered if it was the sun that wes giving him a burn.

“The lighting is just right! And they look so peaceful! This is going to be favored by many!” He went on. Now looking back at the photo. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Least I could do. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, no. There’s nothing else. I do appreciate what you do Arthur” The photographer spoke and turned to his saddle bag. Carefully tucking away the picture.

Arthur gave a small smile and turned to his horse, now riffiling through his own saddle bags. He stopped at Albert’s voice.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah” He went back to collect the items he was already looking for. Turning around with them in his hands he raised and eyebrow at Albert who stood before him. Looking a bit lost.

Walking over to Albert’s side where the grass was lower and clearer, he set down his stuff and began setting up his makeshift camp.

As for the time being he needed to set this up. To cook some of his game that desperately needed to be smoked and have some coffee. He looked up to Albert who was now staring at him. He seemed to forget what he was going to say.

Once the photographer left, Arthur would go out and finish what he was first Indended to do.

Kneeling on the grass, Arthur listened as Albert moved to sit near him. He continued on with his task.

“Mind if I stay for a little while? I’m a bit tired from that absured situation”” Albert finally spoke and Arthur craned his neck to see him.

“Sure” He agreed.

Leaning forward, he plopped some branches down in the middle. He had carried with him some branches. Not all the time since it wayed the saddle bags down. Using some flint he struck a fire which started before them. After a few seconds of tending it, the fire became a moderate moving flames. Then using a steel place to set over it he grabbed the coffee pot and placed it above. Sitting back down and waiting.

Staring into the dancing flames, Arthur became lost. Lost in his thoughts. Sucked away from the daily world of horrors and pain. He thinks of days spent galore, were he went out with himself and his Mustang. Peacefully roaming the lands while there were no distraction and no threats. It was enjoyable then. Not anymore.

“I wish I could repay you back for everything you’ve done Arthur.” Albert suddenly spoke, a flower in hand. His fingers gently curved along the leaves and petals. Arthur coughed as he tried to speak. He didn’t really know what to say and it seemed his body didn’t want to him. After some seconds of painful coughs he cleared his throat. Eyes a bit teary. Albert was looking at him was a odd look on his face. Arthur didn’t catch it.

“Well....” Arthur shook his head. He really didn’t know what to say. Never had he thought that the photographer needed to repay him. Not once.

“You don’t need to, Albert.” He sighed and looked to the mountains.

“Then how can I?” He asked and the outlaw looked back with soulful eyes.

“Somehow Albert. just don’t stress over it.” Albert didn’t reply back and Arthur thought he had said something wrong but his thoughts were distracted as he noticed that the coffee was ready.  
  
Taking the pot from from the metal above the fire he set it down on the grass. It was hot and even though his fingers were calloused, it burned through them. Grabbing to cups he poured some of the coffee into both and set the pot aside. The n offering one to Albert, the man took it as he stopped taking just for a split second.

Staring into the warm fire in front of him. A cup of coffee in hand and Albert sitting next to him, telling him of his many adventures without Arthur. Of what he wanted to do in the future warmed Arthur. Made him smile softly at the ebony haired man who had wonder dancing in them.

 


	3. Bad Timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally written as ch. 2 & was written before chapter 2 got written so it might have a element of what ch. 2 coulda been and how charter two in dialogue/emotions flow. Excuse that. 
> 
> All the worrying & constant repeats of ‘I shouldn’t do this, ect, is gonna move away after this ch. 
> 
> Enjoy the ch.!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Oh shit!”

The deafening blasts of gunshot being aimed at him was frightening as he willed his legs to move even faster.

His mind was a run with thoughts that weren’t physically there. Thoughts that he couldn’t process all the way. His weapons and satchel slowed him down. The idea of discarding them to lighten his run wasn’t even a consideration. He wouldn’t discard them for nothing. They were like an heirloom, so very dear to him. 

Ducking his head, Arthur could feel his hair move. Not from wind but of a bullet.

No later than a second he could hear a whistle go past his ear.

He was on the border between the city realm of Saint Denis and the brush. He was running along the dirt roads and the law was in hot pursuit after him. Many many lawmen following, shouting and firing. They were on his trail.

Boots digging into the mud he nearly slipped as he rounded a corner on the street. He began whistling behind his coal black bandanna and soon appeared his trusted Mustang. Black mane and tail flowing wildly, sandy colored pelt ruffled and eyes distraught. 

Running to the horse with all he had he jumped forward. Hand catching the horn as the horse began turning and then bolted. Not even waiting for his rider to be fully seated but Arthur didn’t mind. He lurched forward as his leg swung over and he ducked.

Bells whistled and people screamed. This was bad situation. wickedly bad.

He had just robbed a building. He wasn’t sure what is was or what was particularly inside. All he knew was that many rich people loved to milk about there and with rich folk came money. Loads of it. 

At the very sight of him, dirty, grimy face stuck with guns and ammo attached to him. They spooked. With hands in the air, shaking and pleading for mercy.

He threatened, reached for the money and left. A stack of two piles now in his possession: It was a big score. There were probably hundreds of dollars in each stack yet he had no time to count it. He had quickly exited the building and began running along cobblestone street, trying not to be suspicious.

To his unfortunate luck someone had already alerted the law and now they were on him.

“Ya ya!”

They began going down a narrow old street and Arthur reigned his horse, sliding to the side and into the west of Saint Denis. Now among grass and plank boards for the Harbour he caught sight of the track.

“C’mon on!”

His horse snorted and galloped faster. As they got to the track, feet from it Arthur leaned forward and the wind was sucked out of him.

He saw as the bullets flew past his face and his horse’s built body as they both went airborn. The saddle’s horn painfully digging into his stomach.

The impact with the wooden train track nearly sent him falling off his horse, with his legs squeezing to the saddle he hung on for his dear life. Kicking into the pelt of the Mustang they began forward. Racing along the track at even a faster pace than before.

They were headed for Lagras and Arthur knew the lawmen wouldn’t follow him into the swamp.

Turning around in his saddle, at an awkward angle both hands occupied by revolvers he began firing back. Now lawmen were on horse back chasing him. Two on the track and many other to his right.

The two on the track went falling down, hitting the track with a thud. When he turned to fire at the others he was hit. 

“Arh!”

He grunted in pain as his body began collecting itself from the shock of pain. 

Taking a look back at the oncoming hire of officers, the outlaw reached down to his saddle bags and grabbing a stick of dynamite he lit it and threw it up. He didn’t have the chance to look back as he yelled at his horse and the animal huffed.

A loud commotion behind him erupted then a huge bang collided with his ears. Ducking his head down to his horse’s neck he tried covering himself from anything but that was for naught. His horse whinnied and bucked as the blast gave a shock to the creature. Arthur held on for dear life. Dirt and other shit came pelting down and hit the both.

Looking bad showed no signs of any law men after him. They were behind, murdered. Many bodies littered the ground. He still wasn’t sure that they were safe yet and let the Mustang take him even farther. Thighs gripping the saddle he relaxed some and was finally remembered that he was wounded.

Pain rushed to all his senses as the adrenaline began declining. Fizzling out and making him exhausted. The bullet was still imbedded and the hole was in his shoulder. On the side. It was bleeding onto his thin cloth shirt. Clots and clots of it staining the material. At least it wasn’t fatel.

Returning his other revolver to its holster he pressed a hand to his shoulder and lifted the other to hold the reign. Slowing his horse into a canter he began coughing. Hard wet coughs wracked his body. It hurt, hurt so much that his eye sight began blackening at the edges. Shaking his head he held on and shook as the coughs began diminished and his sight slowly grew to normal. He was still a bit dizzy and sick feeling.

Now far into the area of Lagras. Crocodiles looming at every corner he wearily looked around. He always hated this damn swamp. To spooky, to menacing. Death lurking at every corner that he viewed. He always had to watch his back. He shook his head. No, he had to watch his back every day, in and out. His life was on the line every second that he breathed. Pressing his hand more firmly agaist the wound he hissed. He wished he could get the whiskey out now.

But it was normal these gunshot wounds. So are the robberies and the chases. It was like second nature to him. Every gun shot and every threat he hollowered at the people was easy. Easier than talking. Easier than dealing with his problems and the world’s reality. Oh so much easier.

By now his shoulder was soaked in blood, hands filled with it and with gun grease. His face grimmed and his poor horse who was now on the edge of bucking him off looked as if he had a mud bath. He felt greatly sorry for the Mustang. Oh what he had to go through all the time. The unfortunate luck of him choosing the stallion as his steed. He cared greatly for him and leaned forward. Trying to sooth the dun with comforting words and a couple of treats. The Mustang seemed to settle and began breathing rightly again. It seemed to work.

Then all hell broke those.

The horse screamed. A awful terrible sound that Arthur didn’t want to experience ever again. His eyes widened as the horse reared and he was toppled off. Just seconds before he thought the stallion was alright. 

“Goddamn it horse!” He yelled as his back hit the tracks and he watched as the dun took off. Jumping off the tracks and stoling through the mud. Scrambling to his feet he ran to the edge of tracks and watched as his horse vanished out of sights.

Whistling took no results as he began trying this multiple times. No luck. He couldn’t risk doing that multiple times at the thought of bounty hunters.

“Shit!”

What did the horse even spook at? He looked around scanning the swamp. Nothing. Fucking nothing appeared at his sight. No animals no movement. His horse was just stupid no matter how much he loved him. Scratching his hair he kicked at the tracks.

What was he going to do now? It was nearly night. The sky was a dark blue with some pink across one side. This wasn’t a good situation. No other horses roamed the swamp, no means of getting out quick.  Even folk that went across country avoided Lagras. 

The looming thought that he needed cover took over and Arthur began walking across the tracks. He froze. His brows furrowed. Oh goddamnit, this was even worse. How stupid could he be?

All of his supplies and weapons were on his horse. He just had his two revolvers and Lancaster. Save some low ammo and a knife, he was done for. 

What was he even thinking coming through this way anyhow? Anything and everything would go wrong in the swamp. He huffed. He whisked he was actually able to make good choices when being chased but apparently he couldn’t.

All the shit he had on the Mustang worried him. He still had the money and wondered where the stallion would of gone to to not come back. Thinking the Dun would go back to camp was the best idea but then again it wasn’t. The camp would think he was captured. That wasn’t the best idea.

The closes town was Saint Denis but that was right now a death trap for him and Van Horn was the closet town yet still to far away for him to reach on foot. 

Fingers curling around his revolver and other hand placed against his shoulder he began making his way along the track and when it dipped lower, jumped off. Boots seeping into the mud he looked to his sides. Expecting a crocodile but nothing emerged. There was no noise no nothing.Staying by the side of the track he followed it and came to the north side of Lagras. Near bluewater. Still filled with trees and he narrowed his eyes.

“Coulda sworn” muttering, something in the distance moved and caught his attention. He looked more closely. Well shit, if it ain’t Mr. Mason. The foolish man was among the swamp once more. Near the flat mud plains.

What in the world was he doing now? He was going to get eaten by the crocodiles. Forgetting his situation he headed for the photographer. The luck of him coming across the man at this time was impeccable. Just what he needed, really.

Coming up to the man was no easy job as somehow the photographer had gotten himself in the middle of little island. Surrounded by much mudd and water. Roots lined the water, nearly making him trip and fall. 

Halfway there and struggling through the water as it sloshed noisily around him, lifting his legs uneasily with much force. Mason looked up as he was close to the island. Surprised and complexed, that Arthur has just appeared.

At least this time he didn’t scare the poor man.

“Oh my goodness!” The photographer stated very loudly and rushed to the edge of little island. Watching closely as Arthur makes his way to him. The look upon Albert’s face worried Arthur and he tired moving faster only to cause him more pain in his body. He grunted.

“Don’t hurt yourself!” At this statement Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’m not.” He stole back and reached up to Albert’s now outstretched arm with his good shoulder. Arthur’s hand grasped onto Albert’s and he struggled to pull him forward. Succeeding at this, they both stumbled back. Arthur shooting his arm out to steady them both.

Bending with his hands on his knees he tried regaining his breath from moving through the heavy swamp water. His jeans and boots were soaked, chilling him to his bones. By the time, Albert had regained balance, the younger man was looking over him and gasped as he saw his shoulder.

“Are you alright Mr. Morgan?” He asked softly and Arthur only tossed a hand and breathed deeply. Then a tickle, in his throat rose and he thought ‘oh no’ and began coughing.

“Arthur, please” He weakly spoke through a cough and rose to his full height. Clearing his throat as the coughs went away he ambled with a slight limp over to the photographer’s camera. Promptly falling to the ground dry ground around it and sitting there. Rubbing at his face he looked up as Albert appeared at his side.

“Yes yes, I wouldn’t forget. Silly me” Albert’s eyes focused on Arthur’s then went back to his wound.

“Your not going to pass out are you?” He mumbled looking back at Arthur and Arthur only shook his head.

“No. Just need some whisky.” He stopped and coughed again. Bringing his hand to his mouth he swiped away whatever was there and looked back up at Albert. His hat was halfway off his head. Mostly due to helping Arthur out of the swamp. He loved that hat in some way. He wasn’t sure why or how as it struck his mind. He didn’t want to keep his mind on it, least something bad was going to happen. So directing his attention away he focused his attention away from it.

Albert was worried for sure about Arthur. But the look of his face Arthur knew this.

“Do you have whiskey?” Albert shook his head no. Arthur only rubbed at his face once again, a tick he should try to rid himself of. He grimaced at the pain in his shoulder. The bullet needed to come out but that wasn’t a option right now. The wound was still bleeding but only slowly.

“You need something for that”

“I know. Don’t have anythin for it.” He muttered. The pain was edging on his senses, making his emotions rattle. He was in the verge of yelling. Agrivated already enough that he all of his shit was on his horse which was coming abject st the moment. Albert backed away, just a little. Clearly knowing what wad up. Yet his eyes lit alight as he scrambled over to his horse.

Arthur watched as Albert came back. Cloth in his hand, he knelt down next to Arthur.

“This’ll do?” He asked, showing Arthur what he had. Indeed, it was a cloth which Arthur knew he was going to tie around his shoulder.

“Yeah”

Taking off his jacket wasn’t really a problem as it slid off his shoulder easily. He had a thin shirt underneath which was stained more than the jacket. Stretching his arm out he let Albert tie the cloth around his shoulder and hissed as he tightened it.

“Sorry!”

“No need” He waved him off. Sitting there cross legged as the other man worked, knees touching Arthur’s sides. Eyes locked solely on the wound. 

“Is the bullet still in there?”

“Yes” Albert nearly fainted at that, face loosing its colour. Looking over to the pale man, Arthur tossed a eyebrow.

“Yer sure yer alright?” Albert gave a small smile at that.

“Doin just great.” His fingers seemed to trail farther around his wound and Arthur wondered if it was just his imagination to do with loss of blood. “Where’s your horse at, Arthur?” The photographer asked. Sitting back on his haunches, looking around to catch a sight of the proud animal. He looked backed to Arthur, confused as he didn’t see anything.

“Ran off” Arthur huffed. Before Albert could open his mouth could, Arthur put in his answer. “He’s not comin back”

“Oh” Albert looks downcasted and eyebrows furrowed. Arthur watched and suddenly realized that the man was sacred for him. Scared for him to die or even pass out. That he wanted the best for him and Arthur’s gut twisted. He did not know if it was a good or bad thing.

Albert didn’t need to worry about him. He could risk getting himself wounded and find a way to heal it but on the other hand, the photographer needed to watch out for himself. He was after all more vulnerable than Arthur.

Without moving his shouder he moved himself and stood. Watching as the ebony haired man do the same, who in which went to his camera. Arthur followed blankly.

“Thanks for this” He patted around were the cloth was and looked at the technical camera in front of him. Albert smiled.

“Anything for you Arthur” Again, Arthur’s stomach twisted and he straightened his back. He didn’t like what was happening to himself. Ignoring it he looked to the sky.

The sky was beginning to darken, the clouds disappearing and the stars rising whilst the sun moving to hide behind the horizon line. He didn’t like it, not one bit. It wasn’t good to be stuck in the swamp during night. Some bad shit liked to happen. Twitching while standing there his anxiety went up. There was to much stress now.

Looking around besides Albert he could feel the area closing in on him. There were crickets buzzing but that was about it. The tall trees loomed above them. The moss hanging down, urging them to come forth so that they could strangle them and the water. The water dark and ominous. He was worried he would be stuck in the swamp when it turned to night. His fears seemed to be coming true.

He gulped uneasily. He wasn’t one to be scared easily, but the things that lurked in the swamp so wickedly unnerved the big gunslinger.

“Why yer back in the marsh? Thought yer done with this damned place” He uttered to the other man. The auroa of the place seemed to drop to Arthur but as he looked back to Albert. The man seemed fine, not bothered at all. 

Finally done packing his camera away he attracted the attention of his horse who trotted her way over to him. Clipping his things onto the saddle he looked back to Arthur.

“Not at all, Mr. Arthur! This land is a beautiful place no matter the form. And I just so happen to be here for Herons! Beautiful white creatures. They are grace, solitude and patience. Fine to capture. I did get some though I would like to say their not my best” His hands dropped slowly from the saddle to his sides.

“All yer photos are excellent Albert. I wouldn’t doubt those.” Arthur spoke and Albert seemed to heighten in joy. He smiled.

“Perhaps” He sighed and looked back at Arthur’s shoulder which seemed not to be bleeding anymore.

“Who fired at you?” The gunslinger’s gut dropped. He never wanted to answer this. He didn’t want to show who Albert who he truely was. He lied.

“Man on the trail. Got nasty bout where ‘twas hedin” Arthur looked away. He didn’t want to witness Albert’s reaction. He heard not saw any. He let out a breath he was holding in.

“You can tell. I won’t judge.” Arthur was directed to look back at the smaller man.

“No.” He stated simply and Albert pressed forward. Hands curling he loosened them up as soon as they did. Brushing a hand through his hair. Ruffling it.

“Whatever it is. I know it’s not going to be good” Albert only waited for him to reply after this. He knew he was faking, that what he did before was a made up story

They stood there, close and listening to their breathing. Arthur didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to speak what he did. Yet he knew Albert had a gut feeling about that he did or maybe he already knew. Likely the latter. The ebony haired man needed to know but he backed away from the notion of it. He tossed this through his mind for a few seconds.

Quietly and ever so softly he spoke.

“You do know who i am? What I do, do you? Albert” He watched as he held his breath. Searching the man’s chocolate colored eyes for anything, anything to give away before he heard the sirens. It did no good.

“I have Arthur.” Albert replied somely and Arthur let out his breath. Breathing deeply. At least he wasn’t scared of him, and that’s all Arthur needed to know. He let it out. The honest, emotional side of him came pouring out.

“Saint Denis. Robbed some folk. Killed one of them.” He shook his head. “Now look wha my happened to my foolish ass” He spread his arms out to indicate himself and dropped them to his sides. Waiting for a backlash but none cane and he nearly jumped when Albert leaned to him.

“Don’t dwell on what just happened. Just be glad your still alive” As Albert spoke this Arthur knew the man trembled st the thought of innocents getting muttered st Arthur’s dispense yet he put that aside for Arthur. For his friend.

Arthur didn’t have a word for this or for what Albert had said. He kept oddly silent.

It was now fully night and Arthur’s anxiety was roaring as he noticed this. His hand beginning to caress the handle of his revolver. Rocking back and forth on his feet. Ears perked, eyes alert.

The sense of something we wrong was creeping up his body. So slow, like a cougar. Like his Tuberculosis. He grimaced.

“This ain’t good. Shouldn’t be goin through the swamp at night” Arthur shook his head.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You dont want to know. Better to camp here and not move” He looked over to Mason. “Ever spent a night outside?” 

“Only a couple of times Mr. Morgan” 

“Add this to yer list. Do you have a tent?” Arthur inquired, now looking at Albert’s saddle bags. 

Albert didn’t seem excited to have to spend the night. But he would have to deal with it. He trusted Arthur.

“No. Never had the means to” Arthur huffed at this. Was this man serious?Everyone who ventured out into the wilderness would bring a tent. How in the hell he didn’t? Arthur didn’t even want to figure that one out.

The gunslinger moved and paced. This was not good. Not good at all. He never wanted to spend the night here. Bad things would come of this. He looked to Albert. The poor man was lost as he watched the outlaw page back and forth. If anything would happen he would have to protect him first.

They would stay on this little island. Hope that nothing would happened and remain silent. Walking stressfully back up to Albert he now spoke with a quieter tone.

“Goin to stay here all nice and quiet. Got it?” Albert nodded. “Now do you have any food?” His stomach was grumbling.

“Only a little” Replied Albert who then began rummaging through his saddlebags. He pulled out some dried biscuits with an apple or two. A meager meal. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You can have that.” He had many of times gone without food. He didn’t need it.

Finding a dry place he sat down. Now both revolvers in his hands. They reflected the moons light. Albert followed him and sat down. Wearily looking at his weapons. Arthur hid them away out of his sight. Remembering what happened last time.

Mason held out the food.

“Don’t need it I said” He waved his good arm out. The younger man relented and bean to silently eat. Gazing out at the rising stars. Arthur did to, for some seconds before his attention was grabbed by the person besides him.

Albert’s hair was now on slight distress, clearly showing that something was up with him. Arthur knew why. Just the situation they were in. The man didn’t even know what was going on and why Arthur was acting the way be was.

Soon enough, Albert’s chestnut mare came slowly over. Head nudging Albert’s side. He chuckled and combed his hands through her forelock. Whispering to her.

Arthur didn’t remark anything as he stared at the gloomy landscape. Lost now in desperate thought. All his thoughts now drives from the many problems he had to what was at hand now. Now running his fingers along his revolvers at his side, Albert’s voice spooked him.

“Can we make a fire?”

“No we can’t” He stated roughly. He didn’t mean for it to come out that rough.

Albert seems taken aback by this and Arthur swears he sees Mason move a little bit away. The man was so uplifting in what he did. So hopeful. Arthur’s heart pulls at this. He feels guilty..

He doesn’t mean to be adamant about it, to sound angry at the poor man. He had his reasons and it bursted forward. The unfortunate soul who was sitting next to him had gotten the brunt of it.

He might as well tell the truth to Albert at why he wouldn’t let him build a fire. No more troubles, no more worrying about hurting the man’s feelings.

He mumbles.

“Didn’t mean...” “didn’t..” he huffs quietly. He didn’t know what to say. Mason looks at him. His eyes are now shadowed by his hat.

“Didn’t mean to frighten ya..... just that being in this swamp is dangerous ya know?” He now fiddles with his satchel. His shoulder is giving him a hard to to think.

“The crocodiles around here?” Albert chuckles. “They can be avoided” Arthur shakes his head.

“No....not that... the Night Folk Albert. They live in swamp and attack at any sound or thing they see. Their dangerous.”He’s breathing heavier now. Voice softer.

Albert looks promptly terrified.

“We’re are they?” 

“In this swamp.” They both go dead silent at this. Mason’s hat tips up and Arthur can see the clear look on Mason’s face. Trying to ignore it fails and the image of it imbeds itself into his mind. He shouldn’t of said those words.

A sheet of sweat lined both their foreheads. Their breathing ceased and the chestnut mare seemed to notice this to. She went silent. No more talking. No more nothing.

Getting through this night was going to be difficult.

They stayed like that for some time that Arthur coudnt even count how long. Just aconstant back straight and eyes peeled wide open no matter how tired they were.

At some random time Albert moved himself closer. Closer to Arthur as if he was a shield and he might as well be one for Albert. Their shoulders and legs now touched, feet splayed out in front of them.

Ears perked he hears Albert’s breathing. Sudden and trying to calm but failing each time he tires. At times it hitches at every distance noise in the swamp. Every low groan of a crocodile or far distant sound of a train. Even the crickets that come back to life each minute.

Time was slipping though his hands and he hoped that the sun would rise soon enough to get out of this hell hole. Albert was shaking next to him. His body giving off small shakes every so often and Arthur wondered if it was just the cold or if the man was scared. He had no clue.

The chestnut mare’s ears instantly perked forward and Arthur’s head snapped in the direction of her attention. He swore heard something. He didn’t know what exactly but he knew. Throughout the night they’ve been hearing all different kinds of noises and it was scaring them shitless. Not so much Arthur as Albert.

But this noise. The noise he swore he heard was oh so different from the rest.

“Get up!” He hissed at Albert. Scrambling to his own feet he pulls Albert up, lifting the startled man by his arms. Reaching for the reigns of the chestnut mare he steadied her before she bolts. Her muscles were spasming in anticipation. Her eyes were frantic now.

He hears clicking and he knows what it is. Arthur has little time to react.

“Shit. Shit!” Albert is frozen as he hears the same. Words torn from his mouth, he turned to Arthur and only to open his mouth when Arthur steps to him. Wrapping a arm around the man’s waist, not waiting for a word he moves him to the mare.

“Okay. I’m gonna life ya up. Now help me”

“1..2..3..” He puffs as he lifts the near paralyzed Mason onto the back of the mare. He scrambled up to the saddle behind Albert. Circling his arms around him he catches the reigns. At least he was taller than him so he could see over his head.

Out of all the worst times, Albert began rambling.

“Oh dear oh dear. Were dead men standing Arthur!” He began to go in a tizzy. Goddamn it, Arthur coudnt deal with this now.

“Shut it for a second Albert!. Talk later”

“No were not. Now hang on.

Albert catches his mare’s mane. Entangling his fingers into it and leaning his back against Arthur for balance.

Holding the reigns in one of his hands and a revolver in the other he snaps them and the mare whinnies and bolts forward.

Click . Whistle . Click . Whistle .

He hears rushing footsteps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write their dialogue/ personality lol


	4. Blood Loss

 

 

* * *

 

    A arm tightly wrapped around Albert’s stomach with his fingers clutching the reigns his eyes narrowed over the other man’s disheveled head. Right leg digging into the side of the horse, the mare began cantering sideways. Throwing her head up as Arthur whipped to see what was behind now to their side. He was right, it was the night folk. 

Disgusting creatures, he couldn’t even call them human if he had to. He had no idea what they were anyway. Before he only encounter with them once and he had killed all that tried to threaten his life. Making a break for the plains outside of then swamp. He didn’t even stop to inspect what they looked like. 

Albert’s hand grabbed onto Arthur’s arm in a death grip. It hurt but the pain only sharpened his senses. The mare whinnied and they dodged a tree, nearly causing Arthur to fall as his body twisted unpleasantly. Damn mares. 

He needed to head North or they will mostly likely get stuck in this godforsaken place. He quickly checked to the sky, eyes catching the star’s position through the canopy and turned. Mason who sat front of him, his back against Arthur started to say something but each time his voice cut out. 

Arthur desperately wanted to know what he was saying but this wasn’t the time. 

Grimacing when he realized one of the night folk had a bow in arms. He was getting ready to shoot. 

“Get down!” He practically shouted into Albert’s ear and the man, so terrified as he was, did so with a trembling body. Arthur’s mind now going a millions miles an hour was trying to cratch up with the actions he was taking to save them both. 

In the dark he watched with barely a second to react as he saw an arrow whistle pass his head. He could hear the air move and he urged the horse forward.

Albert gasped beforth him as they turned and the moonlight casted the right beam, a beam that struck onto the disgusting creatures. Envolking then into light and both of them could truely see what they were even though. 

The grip around his wrist slackened and Arthur already knew Mason had fainted from fright. Letting go of the reigns, he wrapped his free damaged arm around the photographers body, holding him close.

As Albert could no longer witness the sound of a gun being fired off beides his ear. The gunslinger raised his revolver silently. Aiming at the first Night Folk who was closing in on them with a raised knife, he fired. The shot vibrated down his arm to his body and made him wince. Not a second later the creature hit the ground.

Legs steering the steed he circled back and fired another. The second night folk went down like the last. Hitting the ground next to two more. Another arrow was shot and Arthur nearly lost his life. His teeth bared as he felt the arrow graze his neck and he shot off three more.

Something flickered to his side and he whipped his head to the side just in time to see one more of the Night Folk jump out. Another bow in his hand. He growled.

In a split second he worried Albert would get hit by the arrow. Holding his waist he tried to move his body to the side as his legs commanded the horse to spin, gun firing. They both fired at the same time, both were hit.

He cried out as the felt his skin rip, the grip on Albert nearly failing. He scrambled his hold as he felt Mason slipping and looked quickly down to see that the arrow had imbedded itself into his thigh. He couldn’t think about that now.

Raising his gun high, ready to fire at any second. He kicked the mare and she splashed through a pond, taking off in the direction of Rhodes.

 

* * *

 

They entered the town of Rhodes wickedly late as no folk were seen rummaging among the roads.

He leaned forward and tried once more to else the fainted photographer. He didn’t rise and Arthur huffed. The was going to be one hell of a pain. 

Carefully monuvering his leg he slipped out of the saddle. Legs hitting the ground and he nearly yelled at the pain the seared through his thigh, up to his hip and his back. Grinding his teeth he reached up, making sure before he was good. Taking the fainted man gently he grunted as he let the other’s weight fully collapse on his shoulder.

He nearly stumbled back but steadied his footing.

Curling an arm up around Albert he took the steps slowly. The light of the little hotel was vastly different and made him squint his eyes. 

A employee watched him approach and gave him a room key for the Arthur’s money without a question.

Walking to their room he wobbled with the weight of Albert and opened their door. The door creaked open to reveal a small room, one filled with a bed, two chairs and a piece of odd furniture and just one window. 

Arthur made a beeline to the bed, slowly kneeling to his knees and setting Albert down onto the mattress.

Turning his back to the now sprawled out man he made his path to the door. When he returned he staggered back into the room and dropped the photographers priceless things onto the floor.

His attention was snatched back up as his ears caught a groan.

The photographer, which was dumped onto the bed was moving. A hand plastered to his face. Mason was trying to sit up even before he opened his eyes. Arthur limped the short way over to the bed, promptly falling into it.

Albert’s eyes were flickering open and his eyebrows furrowed. Arthur startled as his body shot forward, back straight and eyes wild as he stared at the outlaw who sat next to him.

Arthur stayed collected next to him, even though the shock of the other man nearly bolting caused his heart to jump. The scare though had a bad impact and he coughed, hand coming to his mouth. His chest heaved.

When he was able to regain his breath and regulate the coughing, his watery eyes looked back to Albert who now sat on the bed. Legs touching Arthur’s side, his body slouched. They weren’t in any danger now, for sure.

“Where are we?” The voice that was Albert’s came out halfway ragged, unnatural and for once Arthur didn’t think he was talking to the same man. His voice seemed more confident, yet curious and Arthur wondered for all the past times he saved him that the photographer was bluffing when saying he had no courage. 

“In a hotel in Rhodes” Arthur muttered. Picking himself up he limped to the only window in the room. The floorboards creaked uneasily beneath him. 

“Oh, well then...... Good gracious! Arthur, your leg!” His voice was clearer this time and Arthur turned away from the window. His heart beat spiking again at the suddenness of Albert’s voice. Once he heard his name being uttered from the others mouth he visibly relaxed. 

His eyes trailed down to his leg at the request of Albert’s. He stared at his leg, nothing really going through his head at the moment.

The arrow, which stuck out of his leg like a branch was long and tough. Around the point that had caught his flesh, a well of blood leaked from the wound. Soaking his pant leg and boot. The blood trailed down and dropped a puddle where’ve he walked. Raising his head he looked from the door to where’s he now stood. Yes indeed, there was a trial.

“Shit” Looking to his arm as he now was reminded of this, the cloth had ripped. The one that Albert had given him. It was raw and bleeding again. He couldn’t even imagine what the back of his neck looked like. It hurt like a son of a bitch. When he realized this he could feel the impending headache he didn’t notice before and the terrible pain the other wounds gave him. He groaned. 

Blood loss. He could die. He didn’t care. These were the thoughts that tumbled through his head as he stumbled to the bed and fell on it.Albert was immediately at his side.

“You need to go to the doctor” Mason spoke with a shake in his voice. His hand rested in Arthur’s shoulder lightly. 

“No. Don’t need a doctor”. All he can think about is the blood that seeps along his body. The triredness that aches through his bones and stomach and the raw way the effect of Albert’s hand does to him as it rests on his shoulder. The way his body is so close. He is nearly gone into oblivion at this point. 

He shakes his head but to no avail. He is forced into a seat of dizziness because of this and in a second Albert is helping him up. Arthur can feel his hand against his chest and he knows for sure the photographer can hear his chest rattle with every struggling breath he takes. He may not be coughing but damn does this tuberculosis do other shit. 

“I’m taking you there! Right now!” Albert’s voice is on the panicked side and Arthur waves him off. His eyes groom over to his leg and suddenly without a thought he is bending down. Hand closing around the arrow. He knows this is a bad idea but it escapes him. He ignores what Albert says fruitfully. 

“Oh dear lord! Don’t do what I think your going to do Arthur! That’s going to make it worse!” Albert tried plying his arm away from the arrow but being twice the weight of Albert with much of it being muscle was a big comparison to a small photographer with skinny arms. He didn’t even budge and Arthur huffed. 

Suddenly there’s a cool hand taking his chin, turning his head away from his crimson leg. His eyes go to meet Albert’s. They betrayed everything, the soulful emotion that Mason was having and it might of just spooked Arthur if it weren’t for the pain he was in.

“Please, just don’t rip it out Arthur!” The younger man was shaking him lightly at his foolishness Arthur stopped for a second. Just for a second and the next thing that came out of his mouth he knew he regret later.

“Why you care? I can take care of my’slf” He muttered. Eyes still locked onto Albert’s and he realized what he done. Hurt struck across the other man’s face and he regretted it, deeply so. The fingers that gently held his face trailed away and Arthur was left with a blast of cold where once Albert’s fingers were. He didn’t welcome the cold this time.

“Because...Becauss I DO care about you Arthur. You’ve saved me so many times that I can’t count anymore and the effort you’ve put into helping with my photography. It’s a miracle in a way.” 

“You shouldn be worried bout me” 

“And I would are say your more important than me” Albert retorted back. They really shouldn’t be arguing Arthur thought. But they weren’t. It was a low disagreement that Arthur knew he was terribly wrong.

He couldn’t focus on Albert anymore. It would possibly drive him insane. His fingers curled around the wood. He needed to get this out no matter what Albert said to him. 

Grasping it in a haze and he jerked his arm back. As the tip of the arrow ripped through more flesh, taking it with it as it was ripped from his leg. Arthur let out a shout. Gritting his teeth, his breathing becoming ragged.

Barely looking at the arrow in his hand and the gasp that emmitted from next to him as he lazily tosses it away.

He doesn’t remember anything after that. 

 

* * *

 

The pressure from his chest and the constant pain of everything else is what caused Arthur to awaken suddenly. 

His sea blue eyes are already wide open and his body still as a board. His mouth opened for a second and the raw hacking wheeze grabs him and flings him about. Cutting him down like a sword. His eyes squeeze shut and he knows there is blood coming out of his mouth. Putting his hand to his mouth he leans forward, desperately praying for the awful pain to go away. 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, yet his eyes are open, a glass of water that was pushed into his hand by a person besides him and like a hungry wolf he is he is swallowing up the water. Rinsing the bloodaway.

His hand clenches around the glass, a white knuckled grip. Once he drained the glass he looked through his eyelashes, eyes adjusting to the light in the small room. Now realizing be was in hotel and that a person, Albert was sitting next to him. 

His eyes trail away from Albert for a moment to settle on his hands. They are dirt ridden, blood ridden and ridden with gun oil. He wipes them absentmindedly on his pants and his eyes fall down to his leg. Wrapped up in cloth.

He instantly he turns his head and hisses. The wound on his neck spikes in pain, he stills and realizes in relief it was already healing and his shoulder. Wrapped up in new cloth.

He looks back over to Albert, questioning. The poor man must of went strides to wrap up his wounds.

The photographer is sitting next to him on the bed. Arthur can see his jaw clenching.

“How long was I out?” Arthur mumbles and awaits Albert’s reply who in which spoke lowly. Almost inaudible to Arthur’s ears.

“A day at least. It’s evening, Arthur.” Albert is instantly standing as Arthur is forces himself up.

Shit. Shit. Shit. He shouldn’t of been out that long. He had promises to finishes. Tasks to compete. He had to talk to Lenny about the upcoming bank heist that him and Dutch were to carry out. He was way behind. He needed to go and where was his hat? 

He began to step forward yet as he put pressure on his wounded leg he growled as the limb nearly buckled. In a instant Albert was in front of him. Hands on his shoulders, pushing him back to the bed.

“Easy Arthur. Your not In a good state to move” Albert began as he stood in front of Arthur who now sat on the bed glaring. 

“Damn right I’m not in a good state to move! I’ve been in worse” He rose once more with a hiss. Albert’s hands were back on his shoulders and Arthur narrowed his eyes.

Even how much he enjoyed the other’s company. How much the photographer cared he did have an obligation.

“Albert, let me go.” He stated dryly as he pushed past the smaller man who stumbled back from Arthur’s broader frame. 

Looking around he spotted his hat and grabbed it. He heard the other man behind him give a small huff, a strained noise.

“If your not going to stay here at least go to the doctor, Arthur!” Albert bespoke as he made his way with Arthur around the room. “And that cough, it doesn’t sound right” Arthur froze as Albert said this. Shock was beginning to play with his senses, curling around like a snake. He looked away from the man as he grabbed his torn duster.

“I already have.” He huffs as he moves slowly to the door. 

“And?”

“And?” Arthur turns, he’s in the verge of growling his words out.

“The goddamn doctor told me I have Tuberculosis!”He reaches for the door knob only to be interrupted once more.

He hears a choked sound from Albert. 

“Oh, oh. I am terribly sorry, Arthur....—“

“I don’t need anybody’s pity” He muttered interrupting and watched as Albert looked away. Perhaps crestfallen and sighed.

Taking the door knob in hand he turned it as Albert began speaking once more. About to open his mouth to complain he stopped as it was way different from the topic they had just been on.

“Least before you go could you at least join me for lunch?” Albert questions. Standing out in the hallway. Arthur eyed him tiredly.

“Guess” He grates out and in a moment Albert is smiling. Taking his his arm to lead him down the stairwell, to a table with chairs and calling over to a waiter. 

Arthur plops into the seat with a groan, his leg already throbbed from the little amount of time he stood on it. Schooling his face of the pain he relaxed in the chair and they took their orders.

Two beers, a glass of water, and one burnt venison. It was nothing a little old town hotel couldn’t hold. Of course it wasn’t some high class Saint Denis dinner but this would do for the time being.

Neither of them made a comment as Albert watched solemnly from the other side of the small table as Arthur ate.

His teeth were beginning to hurt unmiracously. Pushing the plate away he offered the rest to Albert even though the man made a noise against it. 

Leaving it colding against the air they stayed silent.

Arthur jumped as he felt the warmth of Albert’s hand over his. 

“Why didn’t you leave me?” Albert’s voice is soft and it coaxes a softness from Arthur to talk even though he wasn’t in the mood.

He was quiet for some time, he knew the reason yet the reason was halfway through his head. He accepted the first part but he couldn’t accept the second. 

Albert was rubbing small circles into his hand and Arthur sucked in a breath. 

“I didn’t... want to. Didn’t want to see you in danger. Had to make sure’ yer didn’t get into danger” He gave a small flicker of a grin. 

Arthur would’ve sworn that Albert’s face changed colour. 

“I’m glad that you think that” 

“Yeah yeah” Arthur breathed.

He was playing a dangerous game now, a game that consisted with another’s life and his emotions and mental state. All Arthur could do was let himself be relieved that he was able to fend off the danger.

Perhaps this was his demise. 

Arthur began to stand up but stopped as Albert’s hand wrapped itself around his bicep. He met the eyes of the photographer’s.

“Before we split ways, would you care to join me at the art gallery next week, Arthur?” The photographer looked at him encouragingly, eyes alight, hopeful. The gunslinger couldn’t denie.

“Sure thin” Without a thought, he knows he’ll be there. Giving a faint smile, face flushed he headed for the door.

His horse is miraculously awaiting for him when he steps outside.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, 3 more chapters? What am I gonna do?


End file.
